


Wherein Reinkru Meets Kongedakru

by Queer_Lil_Fuqer



Series: Klark Kom Reinkru [2]
Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Landing, Alternate Timeframe/line, F/F, F/M, Grounder Clarke Griffin, Little bit of Fluff, Little bit of smut, No AIs, Reference to Rape, Torture, Trigedasleng, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 20:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14722778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queer_Lil_Fuqer/pseuds/Queer_Lil_Fuqer
Summary: Klark is kickass, but the ground kicks her ass back.More or less: The Delinquents fall in the Rain Forest. They run into Trikru, then there’s Nia and the Ark and the Mountain, so it’s a whole heap of fun.Read the tags! I'm really liberal with them, especially with how vanilla the first chapters are. It starts slow, but fear not! I am, in fact, a horrible person and will go into detail on some violence (not on the rape, though), so if you're at all queasy or triggered by that or whatever, this is your warning. If you're looking for fluff and smut, you'll be largely disappointed. Also, chapter lengths vary, and I try to be responsible irl, so it'll take me longer than I'd like to make sure they aren't shit before I post them.





	1. Wherein Klark Loses Her Fight

Klark knew she was dying.  
She’d enough close calls in her years on the ground that the feeling was a familiar one. First was the harshness of the Trimani, the ground as a whole, then Nia’s frozen cruelty, her small victory there quickly overshadowed by Ontari’s betrayal, her prisoner, no less, to be handed neatly over to the Mounon. Nothing could have prepared Klark for what she endured in Mount Weather.  
She still felt sorry for some of them. There was the girl with deep brown hair that had been nice enough to her, and she knew there were children. Klark hated killing the innocent.  
She closed her eyes, regretting that she had not even a full week with the renowned Commander of the Coalition, more beautiful that any story could ever convey, and more curious and eager to learn than any of her subjects likely knew.  
A wave of pain ripped through her, but she barely had the energy to gasp.  
For the millionth time, Klak wondered what it would feel like to have the mighty Heda hold her through the agony. Klark had been in enough situations similar to this that she easily imagined Leksa’s arms encircling her. She must’ve been much closer to the end of her fight than she thought, as the touch she told her body was real felt much warmer than it ever had, the press of lips to her forehead more tender. She sighed contentedly and gave into the hallucination, snuggling into the conjured body. Breathing in, she told herself that she smelled the dry woods scent that was so different from the damp forest she called home.  
She thought of her life on the ground as her name in Leksa’s voice rang faintly in her ear, lulling her to that endless sleep.


	2. Wherein Leksa Meets Klark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Thoughts ___  
>  _“Translated Trigedasleng”_  
>  “Gonasleng, or Written as Trigedasleng”  
> \- i.e. "Heda" vs _"Commander"_  
>  If that makes sense

Leksa couldn’t think of a time she had run faster in her life, or a time when it had been so difficult. The roots and moss that covered the ground, spotted with undergrowth was nothing like the woods of her home clan.

Straining for the sound of their pursuers, Leksa concentrated particularly hard on her foot placement as she nearly sprained an ankle whenever her thoughts strayed. Their scarification left no doubt they were Azkru, though it would be nearly impossible to tell whether or not they were banished, and/or their actions condoned by their Kwin Nia.

Suddenly, a new enemy was added to the chase, and Azgeda was the least of their worries. Pauna of the swamp forest were much larger and more aggressive than in any other clan territories. Her General Onya and her gonakru all ran impossibly faster, some not managing fast enough. They could hear the terrified screams of the Azgeda behind them, and, all too soon, the screams of their own gona.

Just as the beast was near enough that Leksa knew that even the slightest misstep would mean her end, the pauna stumbled, roaring louder, but out of pain. She and her party only stopped when it was obvious that they would not be immediately trampled.

Turning, what they saw was almost beyond belief.

There were rumors of the forest people, but it was generally considered myth; apparently they were witnessing one of their few manifestations.

An unknown number of people swung wildly from tree to tree in near silence, but Leksa could swear they were the cause of at least some of the forest sounds. The pauna was about three spears high, close to a spear taller than even the largest known in the twelve clans. The lithe warriors were wrapped in glimmering greens and browns, faces effectively obscured in the cloth, and seemed to have little problem slipping around and passed its defenses, often flipping through the air, free of vines or branches. Most arrows and spears glanced off the thick hide of the predator-become-prey and the ones that did struck without lethality, but became clear that it was a distraction from the ropes and vines being drawn around it. Within a few short minutes, they tightened violently, felling the beast with a bellow.

The only person with a head covering (as far as Leksa could tell) landed by the beast’s face so casually and smoothly Leksa barely held back a shout of warning. They slung their bow across their back and drew a short sword. Human and pauna watched on in wonder, stock still, as they placed their free hand almost reverently on the side of it’s face, and although Leksa could only see the back of the person, she knew they were speaking, likely ritual phrases. The blade suddenly shot forward, burying itself deep in the eye of the pauna, who died with a loud exhale.

The sword was withdrawn, cleaned on the fur of its most recent kill, and replaced in whatever hidden sheath it had come from. Its owner then turned to the party, surprising most of them, but Leksa managed to hold the brilliant blue gaze of the pauna’s executioner without even a twitch. Approaching, they stopped about a spear and a half away, dropping to sit on a root that arched out of the ground, kicking their feet in the air.

 _“You’re lucky she was a small one.”_ The voice was more feminine than Leksa imagined, husky from what she could only imagine was disuse, and she had to surpress an unexpected shiver. Although the Trigedasleng was flawless, she moved her hands with her words, as deftly as if it were a language on its own. _“So, what has the Heda of the twelve clans being chased by Azgeda through the rain forest?”_

Leksa could help blinking in astonishment, though she supposed it was foolish to assume that residents here, however unknown, were completely cut off from the Kongeda. Wait, this is considered a small pauna? Leksa thought to herself. Spirits, I can only imagine what a big one looks like.

As if on cue, a much louder and more fierce roar echoed around them. Leksa froze and saw the azure eyes widen in panic. That can’t be good, if even she is frightened.

Confirming her fears, the apparent leader of the group stood. _“Looks like someone isn’t too happy. It’s best we leave quickly, especially with your wound.”_

 _What wound?_ Leksa checked over her considerably smaller party. She winced at the sting the twisting motion produced… oh. Her wound. An arrow in the lower left of her back.

She jumped slightly and nearly let out an undignified squeak, as Blue Eyes was somehow right in front of her. The other woman reached around grasped the shaft of the arrow and looked at her intently. _“I’m going to push it through, although it looks as though it is almost there.”_ The arrow burst through her front at the last word, the back half of the shaft breaking off in nearly the same motion. It surprised her, as much about the forest people, but the pain was bearable. Only because of the war blood in your veins, one of the past Commanders whispered from a corner of her mind. _“The rest is going to need to stay where it is, at least until we are away from here.”_

With that, Leksa was swept off her feet in a very un-Heda-like manner, although the gentleness of the action only added to her state of shock. She dimly registered a dark haired girl scoop up her General, who did yelp, as the others of her group were pulled up into the trees. She found herself subconsciously leaning into the slick material that swathed her savior. Blue Eyes didn’t seem to notice - or if she did, she didn’t seem to mind - so Leksa relaxed further, noting the inordinate amount of muscle beneath it. With a start, she saw that she was being cradled in one arm like an infant, the other reaching out to snag and swing from branches and vines and the occasional conveniently placed rope, feet sure and practiced.

There was still the crash and snarls of a pauna behind them, and when Leksa peaked over Blue Eye’s shoulder, she could see the mottled fur of a pauna nearly a spear taller than the previous one skidding to a stop at an invisible line.

The group stopped a fair way inside whatever barrier it sensed, watching warily to see what it would do. Again, Leksa wanted to demand that they continue on, but these forest people obviously knew more of this land than she.

Despite having lost relatively little blood from her injury, it was enough to be a concern, and the pain was catching up, causing her to quickly lose focus. Green eyes forced themselves open for a bit longer, catching the end of the pauna just before her eyelids dropped - a spear whipping into its maw as it leaped, only to sink into the mud beneath it as quickly as Leksa sunk into unconsciousness.  
————————  
Leksa awoke with a cry. It took several minutes for the spots to fade from her vision, where she found Blue Eyes had already removed the rest of the arrow, cleaned the hole it left, and was now packing and wrapping it tightly, but not exceedingly so. Leksa couldn’t help but marvel at how quickly and effectively she worked. Satisfied with her handiwork, she sat back, smiling through her face coverings.

 _“That should do, at least for now,”_ Blue Eyes said, continuing the simultaneous vocal/hand communication. Leksa nodded, then reprimanded herself. She needed an actual name, not just an eye color. As if reading her mind, Blue Eyes reached out and helped Leksa to her feet, with a “Klark.”

Leksa blinked.

“Chit?” She asked.

“Moba. Ai laik Klark,” she clarified, grasping Leksa’s forearm.

“Ah, mochof. Ai laik Heda Leksa kom Trikru en Kongedakru.”

There was amusement in Klark’s expression at Leksa’s puffed out chest as she replied, “Sha, ai get in.”

Leksa nearly blushed as she thought back to before she passed out when Klark had, indeed, addressed her as Heda. She did blush once she saw her armored shirt had been carefully cut away and set to the side, along with her jacket, leaving her bindings as her only top beside the bandaging. Even if Blue Eyes was a healer, it was indecent for Heda to be undressed by someone other than her own handmaidens or personal healer. “Ait. Mochof gon yu sis au.” She looked around the small clearing in the treetops, asking, “Weron ste ai gona?”

Instead of answering, Klark pulled aside a curtain of vines that acted as an intentional privacy screen, so naturally arranged only someone who knew it was there would even see it. On the other side sat Onya and the remainder of her gona, now only half a dozen, resting on a roughly hewn platform that hung before them, at least a hundred spears above the ground. Running and leaping between, over, under, and around them were the forest people. They never seemed to sit still so it was difficult to tell how many there were - could be ten, could be twenty, hell, could be fifty for all she knew. It was only then that she saw the leather strips around their hands and feet, more supple and lightweight than boots, and much more apt for their particular mode of transportation. They could have all at purple skin and Leksa would only be realizing this now, she thought.

No sooner had they stepped passed the curtain than a large black and white striped fina seemingly leapt out of nowhere and tackled Klark. Leksa shouted and drew her daggers, which were oddly still on her waist, only to have someone pluck them lightly out of her hands before being slowly offered back.

 _“Nothing to worry about. She’s always restless like this after a poudna kill… so about every other day.”_ Leksa vaguely recognized her as the dark haired girl that had carried Onya on their retreat, and she too talked with her words and hands both. Leksa frowned and turned back to see that only Trikru had reacted to the display, similarly having any weapons removed from their grasps. Klark still wrestled with the jungle cat, hold her own well enough that she pinned it underneath her successfully, snapping at its nose. The cat yowled and whined pitifully and Klark just laughed. She sprung up, her captive writhing to all fours and sulked, something Leksa didn’t think was possible, and would have thought anyone a liar to say so, if she hadn’t been there to see it.

Klark purred at the animal until it gave up moping and jumped on her, fore paws on her shoulders, licking rough kisses onto her cheeks, tail swishing lazily. The victim stumbled and fell under the weight.

While Klark continued to struggle, the dark haired girl spoke again, startling Leksa, as she had forgotten she was there. _“Little Tiger here worries about her momma whenever she faces a pounda - er, pauna as you call them. This is her retribution for whenever Klark leaves her behind.”_

Leksa nodded dumbly along. The jungle beast easily twice the size of Klark “worried” about her “momma?”

 _“It’s all about movement and momentum. See, when Tiger leapt, the kinetic energy produced was easily maneuvered to Klark’s advantage, as Tiger lost her balance at the alteration of her trajectory. Kitten here always falls for it, and always gets flustered, which gives Klark the upper hand long enough to flip their positions, especially on the uneven plane that is their playing field. I swear to god, the day they roll off is the day we all die, primarily of heart attacks,”_ the girl ended with a chuckle. Leksa still wasn’t sure she understood it all, but said nothing.

This round was one Klark wasn’t going to win, so Tiger let her up once she stilled with a huff. Leksa wasn’t convinced that this all wasn’t just a dream, that she hadn’t been caught by Azgeda and was only experiencing a delusion resulting from some head trauma she sustained.

Pain stabbed outward from her injury and she clutched it, hissing. _Nope, very real._

Leksa jumped at the hand that joined hers on the site of her wound, probing it delicately. She hated that the forest people managed to move so silently, especially since she prided herself on her exceptional hearing and awareness of her surroundings. She blamed it on her new environment, her injury, and that her mind hadn’t caught up to the reality of her situation.

The hand was removed and green met blue. _“You need to remember to be careful. There’s not anything too important where you were hit, but there’s a good chance that one or both of your intestines were perforated, which isn’t something to aggravate. I’m almost certain you did, but I can’t do anything more for you, except tell you what you can do to lower your risk of exacerbating it.”_

Leksa felt like one of the many overly agreeable advisors she had seen through the clans and Polis. They were the ones who always supported their leaders, constantly nodding mindlessly, just as she was now. And, Spirit, did these people talk oddly, not even including the hand signals and taps that dominated their language. It was mostly the words they used, ones Leksa was unfamiliar with, and their overly casual manner.

“Heda,” a familiar voice called as Onya approached her. _“How is your injury?”_

_“It is healing well. I suspect it has to do with being a natblida, but I’ve never worked with another one, so I can’t really say for sure.”_

Onya bristled, as it was Klark who answered in place of Leksa. _“Heda can speak for herself.”_

 _“Onya,”_ Leksa chastised, _“These people have done much for us, and we are not within the bounds of the Coalition, so I am not their Commander.”_

Klark didn’t seem phased by the reprimand though, gesturing toward Leksa in her hand-speech and said “Beja, _feel free to ask her for yourself.”_ Tiger walked up behind her, nearly pushing Klark over as she rubbed against her legs.

 _“It was just a twinge I had not expected, General. All is well.”_ With her attention of Klark again, “Mochof nodotaim, Klark. _What can we do to repay you?”_

Klark startled them both by making a rather convincing bird call. If there had been a raven near, Leksa knew it would be indistinguishable. The dark haired girl dropped back down, having left without alerting them. She held a bundle of cloths like the ones they were wearing.

 _“You’re losing a lot of moisture sweating in all that._ Hir,” the woman tossed them several thin strips of material. _“Those are for underneath. The silk goes over top. It’s more lightweight than traditional armour but just effective, if not more so, at keeping arrows and what from breaking skin. Unfortunately, because it is such a tight weave, it’s more humid than preferable, but I’d rather be alive and a little sweaty than full of holes. It does also keep the water close to our bodies, even cools it some. We just wash more often to counter said “sticky" situation.”_ She snickered at the end and Leksa worries she had missed something. She pushed them, piling the “silk” in their arms, drawing the vines in their faces. _“Just shout if you need help,”_ she called after them. _“Especially you, Cheekbones!”_

Onya scowled. _“I do not like this, Heda. They are too helpful. Did you notice how their leader, this Klark, did not answer your question? It is suspicious.”_ She spoke quietly, but somehow they heard.

 _“Aw, come on Cheekbones! Let us be nice!”_ This was definitely still the dark haired girl, but Klark cut in before Onya did anything rash, again.

“Hush, Reivon. Leave them be.”

How easily she slipped into Gonasleng stunned Onya into silence, although she quickly recovered, grumbling something about the “Bird Girl.” The small clothes were easy enough but, unfortunately for her, Onya had issues with her new clothing and huffed as she asked for assistance, knowing she needn’t raise her voice to be heard, even over the ambient noises of the darkening forest. It had been morning when they were run out of their camp, but Leksa hadn’t realized how long they had run. Maybe she had been unconscious in Klark’s arms (arm, she corrected herself) longer than she initially thought.

Reivon burst in, immediately on Onya, deftly whipping the cloth into place. She stepped back and folded her arms across her chest, dragging her eyes up and down Onya’s body. _“There ya go, Cheekbones. The picture of beauty,”_ she said with a wink.

Just then, Klark stepped in and softly stopped Leksa, taking over her failing attempts to figure out the loose ends. Seeing the red sash of the Commander Leksa held, she said, _“If you intend on wearing that, you won’t be too inconspicuous.”_ Nevertheless, she wove it in, managing to tuck it so it only subtly poked out past the more natural hues of the silk. She held Leksa’s gaze and, almost begrudgingly, let her eyes fall down her body, lingering here and there. Suddenly, Leksa found her mouth to be very, very dry.

Clearing her throat and glancing away, Klark held out another two pieces of cloth. “ Here. To cover your mouths. _The bugs are hard to keep out otherwise.”_

Snapping her jaw shut, Leksa snatched a strip from her hand, scrambling to get it in place, Onya following suit just a quickly. Chuckling, Reivon and Klark assisted them before stepping back out past the vines. Leksa was pleased to see that her gona were lead in after them, afforded the same semi-privacy their Commander and General had received.

Klark let loose a series of whistles and bird calls and clicks. There was a beat before a woman with mousy brown hair flipped from the underside of the platform, responding in the same odd manner, only this time adding the hand signals Leksa had noticed before. She barely paused to do so before she was off again, springing up into the foliage and out of sight.

“Chit wkom oso dei de?” Leksa asked.

“Moba, _I was just asking her to check on the poudna to see if she needed to assist in bringing it back,”_ Klark waved the question off.

“Which one?” Leksa frowned.

 _“The one that isn’t submerged in mud,”_ Klark replied with a raised eyebrow and amusement coloring her tone.

_“That one - why did it stop?”_

“Ait, _it would seem odd if you didn’t know,”_ Klark nodded. _“First is the mud itself, although it is found basically everywhere here. We have also cultivated a certain plant at the edge of our territory. The smell is strong and often enough to ward them off in and of itself. The bigger ones are more aggressive though, so we were forced to kill him.”_ Curiously, Klark seemed to regret that their hand was forced in that aspect. _“The more aggressive and agitated they are, the less defensive they are, allowing more openings to deal fatal blows. In many ways, they are easier to kill than the small.”_ Shaking her head once, she continued. _“To answer your other question, we would ask that you remain here for a time while you heal, as our honored guests. We would be glad to escort one or two of your gona to the Trikru-Reinkru border, so your people are aware of the situation. If you are uncomfortable with this arrangement,”_ she shifted towards Onya at this, _“we will not be offended, and will escort you all.”_

Leksa spoke before Onya could. “Mochof. _It would seem best for me to recover here, although we can only spare a eight days.”_ Klark nodded and sprung away.

Onya grabbed Leksa’s arm. _“Heda, you were already asleep for an entire day before Klark deemed you fit enough to remove the arrow, something about your organs. She kept watch nearly the whole night and the whole day, not even leaving your side for food. I do not trust her, or any of them for that matter. They do not speak save in your presence, only their secret language. I do not trust them,”_ Onya repeated.

 _“She’s made that obvious,”_ Reivon snorted from where she was lounging in the crook of a nearby tree. “We offered them clothes yesterday, but they wouldn’t accept them until you did, apparently.” Thrown by the sudden appearance and casual switch into Gonasleng, Leksa said nothing long enough that Reivon continued, with no break in her hand signals. “Klark likes you, though. I haven’t heard her speak so much in years - _she usually just broods in a corner when outsiders are here. We don’t need to be part of your Coalition to recognize a good leader and warrior._ Klark may be our “Commander” here, but you have earned the title of the Heda, while Klark is just our Klark. No offense, but I’d follow her to hell and back, _where I can’t say I’d follow you to a pub, and that’s saying something. And don’t scowl so, Cheekbones, your face will freeze like that.”_ With that, Reivon flipped to her feet in front of them. “ Klark does trust you for some reason though, so _we will all treat you as an honored guest as long as she says.”_ And then she was gone.

 _“I am ill at ease as well, Onya,”_ Leksa began without turning, _“but we are in their lands. This is just… an unexpected diplomatic visit, at least for now. We can also see what they know about Those Who Fell, if they are real, and if they are still alive.”_

 _“There were many sightings of The One With Sun In Her Hair, but that was many cycles ago,”_ the General reminded her. _“She is likely dead by now. With their prowess in pauna hunting, she may have passed her knowledge to these people, so they might know her fate.”_

_“Who’s fate?”_

Keryon, Leksa didn’t know if she could take much more of the fright these people had given her by their sneaking. Pushing her Heda mask back into place, Leksa turned to Klark. _“It has long been wondered in our lands what became of the legend of Those Who Fell and their leader, The One With Sun In Her Hair, fabled to be the best pauna hunter the Coalition has seen.”_

Klark seemed to debate with herself for a moment before a resolute look took hold and she reached around, removing her headpiece.

Onya gasped and Leksa’s eyes widened at the impossibly blonde hair, a shade so light it was unheard of.

The Commander blamed her injury for her delayed reactions, as her General shook herself first. _“This only proves so much. You do not have the scar- you could be her daughter for all we know.”_

Klark’s eyes took on the look of amusement Leksa was growing familiar with, and reached again and let her face covering fall. “Reivon, your little prank-gone-wrong has been added to my caricature.”

Almost immediately, the one in question popped up, slinging an arm around Onya and Leksa each with a laugh. “If you hadn’t put your ear to it like a dumbass, you would have been fine.”

Klark just shook her head, brushing her braided hair back, revealing more of the side of her face. A small corner of Leksa’s mind wondered at the disrespect Reivon showed the person she would “follow to hell and back” (wherever that was), but she was mainly focused on the scar. It was an angry red, nothing like the fine white ones Azkru sported. Dominating the lower left portion of Klark’s face, curling under her chin and down her neck, it receded past her maimed ear and underneath her hair. The edges reaching out very much like rays of the sun, one dancing over the tip of her nose and another twisting across her lips. Onya reached out to swipe at the mark, as if it were an illusion, or purposefully placed there somehow. Leksa tried not to feel jealous, as Onya had touched Klark and not she.

She really tried.

 _“Klark, it was a flash bomb - I didn’t think you’d see it, much less_ hold it to your face. Hell, even if you had just held it in your hand, _the damage would have been minimal to non-existent.”_

The woman who's hair held the color of the sun rolled her eyes to where they landed on Leksa, who had been tracing Klark’s lips with her eyes.

She was pulled out of her daze by Reivon jostling her shoulder with a chuckle. _“Careful there, Commander Heart Eyes,_ you just might drown in those pools of blue.”

Klark’s hand shot out to flip the flat of a blade against Reivon’s forehead before withdrawing it. Reivon yelped and scowled, rubbing one hand on the invisible mark, signaling as much as she could with the other hand. “Fuck you, Griffin. You’re just as bad.” Reivon jumped up into a tree and Klark gave chase.

“Goufas,” Onya snorted. _“If they are the Fallen People, they are much more immature than one would expect.”_

Cocking an eyebrow, Leksa said, _“I saw your “heart eyes” for Reivon.”_

Onya blanched and sputtered. If there had ever been any doubt, it was gone now. _“She is… admirably capable. As a warrior. That is all. There are no hearts in my eyes.”_ Her words were stated factually but her initial stuttering and persistent blush gave her away horribly. _“She was right about you though, Commander Heart Eyes.”_

Leksa whirled on her. _“Watch your mouth, or I will smash your precious cheekbones.”_ She held back smirk as Onya clenched her jaw, narrowing her eyes but opting to stay silent.

Just then, their gona came stumbling from behind the vines, rather disgruntled. Leksa took the opportunity to reacquaint herself with them, ensuring they were as comfortable as could be expected. After a few minutes, a forest person who introduced himself as Paskal popped up and asked Leksa which of her gona wished to accompany him to the border. He too moved his hands with his words, Leksa noted, as Jong volunteered. He was the youngest and arguably fastest of the group, so nobody protested. They left soon after

Heda was detailing their aim for the next week when there was a particularly loud animal call (one Leksa couldn’t place) right before a handful of forest people swung onto the platform with large parcels of what Leksa could only assume was pauna meat, deftly preparing it on the spot.

Not long after, Reivon stumbled onto the far side of the landing, wrangling with Klark.

“God fucking damnit, Griffin, I said I’m sorry. You can’t actually see your ladyboner, even though it’s definitely there.” Leksa wasn’t sure what she was referencing, but Klark evidently did. She rolled them to the edge and dangled the burnette’s upper half off it as she screamed, “Alright, alright! I won’t set up action cameras in your room. You know I can’t - I’ve tried.”

Leksa didn’t hide her smirk when she saw Onya reach for her sword. _“Your heart eyes are showing.”_

Onya scowled as she dropped her hand. _“I told you, my heart is in my chest, not in my eyes.”_ Leksa allowed herself to roll her eyes so Onya could see, who only scowled deeper. _“You are a goufa too, it seems.”_

“Aw, don’t look so sad, Cheekbones.” Onya visibly started as Reivon appeared in front of them. _“You’ll ruin your pretty features if you keep this up.”_ She laughed as other woman swatted away the hand that reached out to lightly pinch her cheek.

“Reivon, what did I tell you about antagonizing our guests?” Klark smacked the back of Reivon’s head, who made an exaggerated cry and gave her a pitiful look.

Leksa wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to these people and their strange ways.

 

She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you how aren't as familiar with Trigedasleng as I think I am (Thank you Google!)
> 
> Azgeda: Ice Nation  
> Azkru: People of the Ice Nation  
> Trigeda: Woods Clan  
> Trikru: People of the Woods Clan  
> Chit: What  
> Moba: Apologies; Sorry  
> Ai Laik __: I Am _Name_  
> Sha: Yes  
> Ai Get In: I Know  
> Ait: Right  
> Mochof: Thank You  
> Mochof Nodotaim: Thank You Again  
> Mochof Gon Yu Sis Au: Thank You For Your Help  
> Weron Ste Ai Gona?: Where Are My Warriors?  
> Gona: Warrior(s)  
> Fina: Feline, Cat (I made this one up)  
> Beja: Please  
> Chit Wkom Oso Dei De?: What Was That?  
> Rein Trimani: Rain Forest  
> Reinkru: People of the Rain Forest (my own, original clan)  
> Goufa: Child(ren)
> 
>  
> 
> ~I improvised a good amount of this, so please be nice~
> 
> Also, to clarify, the Delinquents aren't the best pauna hunters, just "the best the Coalition has seen." They are really the only Reinkru anyone in the Coalition know of, as they did drop out of the sky in fire balls, so thinking other people live in the forest isn't exactly something they're thinking about.


	3. Wherein Klark Meets Leksa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fotamon's (translated: Fallen; aka Delinquents) backstory.  
> They've been on the ground roughly seven years.  
> The Ark is still up there, and won't really be a thing for a long while yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Thoughts ___  
>  _“Translated Trigedasleng”_  
>  “Gonasleng, or Written as Trigedasleng”  
> \- i.e. "Heda" vs _"Commander"_  
>  If that makes sense

Their first months had been incredibly rough. They went through the shock of the beauty of the ground, the fear of the pounda and other predators, and the joy of learning other people had survived. One person in particular, Shiben, had taken them under his wing; he was teaching them Trimanisleng and how to braid their own rope when the first pod fell. Well, the first since theirs, nearly a whole season prior. The battered capsule they lugged from the river was considerably smaller than theirs, and held the mangled but, to their horror, still breathing body of a girl no older than 10. She hadn’t been able to say anything, but smiled as her eyes dimmed and glassed over. It was the first death of their people, but far from the last or most painful.

It only took eight days for the remaining pods to fall, and a moon to find the passengers. Once all the pods were accounted for (they counted and marked them as they fell), there were 48 left, where over an hundred had been sent, all delinquents from the Sky Box. By then, non-Reinkru had already begun venturing in to see They Who Fell for themselves. Few survived at all, even fewer accomplished their goal, and only a handful returned alive to tell the tale of Emo Chon Don Fotam and new stories of their leader, De Strat Kom Deimeika Stran.

With the help of Shiben and other Reinkru, they built their base camp centered around the larger dropship that had carried the first four. It wasn’t big enough to provide any meaningful shelter, but it was a decent storage unit, even as the cycles wore at the rubber that sealed out the bugs and humidity. More than anything, it was a symbol of where they came from and a source of motivation.

Jasper had been the one to identify the potent marjay plant that even the pounda avoided. Somewhat a botanist, he had laughed at his good fortune, praising the gods he didn’t believe in for sending the leafy bush. The idea to plant them as a barrier around their little piece of land was taught to them by Shiben, a Reinkru perimeter to ward off predators before they were even a threat to their home. He also brought to their attention that it was necessary to plant them not only at ground level, but also up the trunks of the trees, as everyone and everything could climb as well as they could run. Human enemies were scarce in the relentless forest, with survival depending on cooperation, every precaution adding days and moons to one’s life.

The plant was the same that caused Jasper’s imprisonment on the Ark, so he was the genius who taught the Fallen how to dry, roll, and smoke various sections of it to experience a pleasant “high,” as he called it. It was a luxurious pass time that greatly impaired one’s perception of reality and ability to defend oneself, the unintentional negligence ending three fights before Klark made the Smoking Buddy rule. They all chose a single partner to notify if they were to partake, letting the other know that the eight candle marks after their smoke session (the longest the effects lasted) were ones they needed to abstain from the act and keep an extra eye on their Buddy. Rules aside, each delinquent, without fail, could be found to have a prepared portion on their person, always on the hunt for bits of flint for the lighting flame.

Shiben took them further south and deeper into the forest to see the proper towns, where people filled roles besides hunters. There were silkworm breeders with vast fields of mokskwoma bushas (mulberry bushes, according to Jasper), as well as water farms of ris and soya. Ever the history buff, Kari insisted that it shouldn’t be possible in the climate, only for Klark to point out that it shouldn’t have been possible for animal life, much less human life, to have survived. The farms produced a rough soya paper they used to roll the dried marjay into what Jasper called joints. They had to prepare them quickly and speed dry them by a fire for the process to work in tandem with the moist material, but the joints quickly became a bartering currency of sorts. The entire process was kept as near a secret as possible from the other Reinkru, although some devised their own crude and less efficient methods.

The whole forest mourned Jasper’s fall to the pounda, and the remaining delinquents (now only 24) tattooed the nine pointed marjay leaf on the back of their dominant hands. After that, they would all come together every full moon to feast and dedicate a high (one half at a time) to each other, the delinquents they had lost, but most especially to the herbalist who had drawn them closer together.  
About half their deaths before then were by pounda, but his and every single one after was - every one but Finn.

The delinquents were sent down as horny teenagers, the majority of them around 16. They didn’t worry about pregnancy as they assumed their contraceptive implants were still intact and effective. Most just slept with whomever, but some, like Trina and Paskal, paired off. Somehow, both had damaged implants and Trina ended up with child. Klark was an apt enough healer and did what she knew how to for the couple, but their focus was pounda hunting. They were situated on the fringe of the forest - further from the nests, but right in the thick of the bands. Fin, Wels, and Belomi were the self-appointed father figures of the Fallen, vying for each others’, Klark’s, and Reivon’s attention. O was another important leader, but Belomi had marked her off limits to the extent he could, much to her frustration. The five remaining often intermingled, and one night when they were in the throes of passion as a group, the pounda warning cry went up. They were all dressed and armed in record time, bolting into the attack. It was the largest band they had encountered, with the alpha, two beta, five gamma, and even three delta - an unusual sight, as delta were usually ostracized as infants.

Paskal had been protecting Trina, eight moons along and unable to do much more than hunker down out of the way of the bulk of the fighting. Ever the hero, Fin had immediately rushed to his aid. Seven of the eleven pounda were downed before Fin was batted off the limb he had been defending. He only landed two or so spear lengths away and half a length down, but at a bad angle. He threw his spear anyway, catching the gamma in a soft spot by luck. Roaring, it turned from where it was about to claw the couple to lunge at Fin. Knocked away again as the pounda crashed to the ground for the last time, he landed close to Klark who began to tow him from the fray, only to have him stop her with a hand on her arm.

“Prisa, _just make it quick_. Beja. We both know I’m not going to make it.”

“No! No way in hell. _You’re gonna be just fine. I’ll fix it_. I’ll fix you.” She was shouting through her tears, not wanting to admit it was impossible.

Fin had chuckled, then coughed violently. “Always trying to save everyone. Keep everyone else safe - I’m kind of a lost cause, _what with the alpha still around_.”

Without needing to look, they both knew Reivon, Belomi, Oktevia, and Wels were handling it while the others took on the remaining beta and gamma. Klark knew what she needed to do, but desperately didn’t want to. He was turned too drastically at the waist, hips twisted too abruptly. Without the ability to walk, life as they lead it was too dangerous, making him a liability. The ugly truth was they couldn’t afford it. With newborns around the corner, a cripple would have been just too much.

Fin had smiled and whispered, “Thank you, Princess,” with his last breath.

Although none escaped, the pounda ended seven fights that day, Belomi among them, saving Oktevia from a lethal lunge.

And Klark had ended Fin’s fight.

Jasper’s death had stunned the group, but that battle sobered them, especially Oktevia and Klark.

After that, they both spoke almost solely in Trimanisleng, patrolled most nights, smiled with remorseful eyes, and laughed chiefly with Tiger, the fina Klark treated as an equal after rescuing her from a pounda. Klark only slept meaninglessly with the rare villager, though O seemed to cope by fucking and being fucked. They were the ones to order - not ask or even insist, order - that the small family stay in a southern town for five whole cycles following Fin and Bel’s births. Knowing the naming of the twins was painfully heartwarming, the new parents complied, Shiben taking the role as the yongons’ mentor in a much safer location. The Fotamon left their rocket-based camp to be close to the settlements, protecting their comrades while keeping their distance.

Two seasons after the family was officially reunited with the Fallen, the goufa were brought to observe their first hunt.

That had been the day they saw both Trikru and Azkru being chased by a pounda.

That had been the day Klark found a shade of green absent from all the forest.

That had been the day the walls that surrounded the heart of De Strat Kom Deimeika Stran realized they weren’t so impervious.

 

~~~~

 

Klark scrutinized the Trikru at dinner, because they were newcomers, and Reivon let it go after "Stricken Princess Klark" made her chase her baby (stun grenade) to the ground. She came back grumbling about how that was a low blow, which Klark knew, but didn’t care.

The Trikru were shown to the where they would sleep, with Leksa and Onya in Klark’s sectioned off area and their gona in Reivon’s, unaware of this at the insistence of the two. Reivon often slept with Oktevia anyway, in the literal and sensual manner, especially after Belomi’s lamentable demise. Klark had a similar arrangement, exclusively in the literal sense, with the twins, who would curl around her. Everyone knew but didn’t say it was to feel close to the two men she lost in that fateful pounda hunt.

Klark shook herself from ogling over Leksa- no, all the Trikru, of course - and relieved Foks from her shift. Customarily, Klark took the first watch to patrol the western section, Dru to the east that night. Moving from tree to tree with Tiger, warding off pounda and unfriendly fina, Klark repeated her mantra.

Hodnes laik kwelnes.

 

~~

The next morning, Klark awoke with Finn and Bell, who only rubbed their eyes before tackling each other. Despite being only six cycles, they were already growing muscle, running through the trees with more ease than on the ground. They also danced the Rein Trimani Spin Raun Gonplei with growing proficiency and confidence, a dangerously beautiful art form that disguised hand-to-hand combat as an expression of dance. Smiling her near imperceptible smile, Klark tucked one under each arm and walked out to the reinforced fire pit where breakfast was being prepared. The two boys squirmed as they reached for each other, but Klark reminded them that fighting during a meal ensured they would be on marjay dula for a moon straight, a responsibility that otherwise rotated daily. They paled at the threat, pouting as Klark sat them on the crude benches with their bowls of ris and berries - an odd combination, but one they had all grown almost fond of. Klark sat with them, eating as she dealt out orders for the day. As with all night watchers, Dru, Monti, and Harper were allotted an additional four candle marks of sleep. Klark didn’t allow it of herself, justifying that her body was accustomed to the lack of proper sleep, and the extra time awake benefited her people more than occasional bouts of fatigue. She knew her crew made sure she slept in whenever they could help it, and scolded them when they did. Never that she would admit it, secret relief greeted her when they didn’t even pause in the act, all knowing she needed and deserved the extra shut eye.

It took the Trikru longer than the Trimani to wake, all looking as though they hadn’t the most restful night. Klark allowed a pang of empathy as she thought back to their first nights on the ground, huddling under bits of the parachute from their ship on clumsily woven mats of leaves. She did not envy how inured they were to much more forgiving beds.

“ _What is it we can assist you with?”_ It was Leksa that had spoken, hands clasped behind her rigid back, but kohl-mask free and waiting for her gona and general to be served before she.

Appreciative traits and insane attractiveness aside, Klark was continually amused at the stick each of them seemed to have up their ass. _“We have a trip to the nearby village.”_

With a single, sharp nod, Leksa had her gona gathering what little gear they had retained in their fight with and flight from the Azkru.

The village visit was to trade used leathers for two new pairs, ones with open backs and more fitted to the skaten. The tanner had insisted they offered too much for so little, so they gifted the rest over his protest. The new gloves allowed Klark to tattoo both backs of the boys’ hands, being equally proficient in wielding weapons and tools with either. When Leksa inquired about it, Klark’s eyes darkened and a hard expression took her face. She told the story in a clipped manner, just enough of it for them to understand. None asked further on the subject.

The following days were ones of educating the Trikru on the ways of the Rein Trimani. They were wary but fascinated, especially of the reputation the Fotamon had with the natives, and most especially concerning marjay. After their first experience, they treated it with almost laughable reverence.

Leksa glued herself to Klark’s side, to learn from her, she said, and Onya said the same of spending more and more time with Reivon. The people of the separate clans slowly began to coalesce, mingling and conversing of their own accord.

Toward the end of their stay, Klark stopped in the middle of explaining their water purification system (surprisingly similar to what they had in Polis) and disappeared into the foliage with the other Fotamon. One Monro returned to silently guide them back to their main platform, and a bloodied and bruised Paskal under Klark’s healing hands.

“Maybe don’t be so careless next time,” the weasley one, Murfi, sneered. His head snapped to the side as Klark was on her feet in a trice to back hand him.

“You are only just tolerated. Hold your fucking tongue or I will cut it out. _Next time, I will send you and make sure you don’t return."_  Klark was literally spitting mad. “You have survived only through cowardice and dirty tricks. _One more word against any of our family and I will feed you to a pounda with my own damn hand.”_

Morfi scowled but slunk off without anything further. Klark turned to the Trikru with such rage that Leksa just might have feared for her life.

 _“Paskal encountered a number of shit-eating Azkru on his return. They nearly killed him in their attempted capture. If you care to hunt with us, you are welcome to, but I know there are rules in your Coalition that likely prohibit you from doing so._ We will leave momentarily.” To the Fotamon, she shouted, “Mou yuj ogeda!”

They roared the phrase back and ran off to prepare.

Leksa turned to discuss with Onya which course of action they would take to find her checking her weapon placement. Looking up, she asked, “Chit? _Are you actually considering not joining? Even if they are of Azgeda, there is no way Nia could prove they aren’t banished.”_

This could get messy, Leksa sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is considered conventional time keeping means nothing on the ground, although there are near parallels. A hand was about 8 inches, and spears generally six feet long. An hour around a candle mark, a moon 28 days, and a season the equivalent to five moons. There are three seasons that make a cycle; in the forest, there is the rain or rein season, the mud or moka season, and the hot or swelta season.
> 
> For those of you how aren't as familiar with Trigedasleng as I think I am (Thank you Google!)
> 
> Trimanisleng: the Language of the Forest (the sign language and whistles and clicks and what)  
> Rein Trimani: Rain Forest  
> Reinkru: People of the Rain Forest, or Rain Forest Clan  
> Kru: a general reference to the People of a Clan  
> Emo Chon Don Fotam: They Who Did Fall  
> Fotamon: The Fallen (the Delinquents)  
> De Strat Kom Deimeika *Stran: The Woman With Sun In Her Hair (lit: the woman with sun hair) (*Self Made "hair")  
> Marjay: Marijuana (if you didn't get that, and yes, my stoner wannabe ass made that one up too*)  
> Marjay Dula: Marijuana Duty; caring for the plants  
> Mokskwoma Bushas: lit. Worm Bushes, but Mulberry Bushes  
> Gona: Warrior(s)  
> Pounda: Pauna; Large, Mutated Gorilla  
> Fina: Wild Cat (*Self Made; feline) (yes, Tiger is literally a tiger, a white tiger at that; yeah, I'm super creative)  
> \- I do refer to these in the singular and plural form the same (ie one fish two fish, a sheep and a shit ton of sheep)  
> Ris: Rice (*SM)  
> Soya: Soy (*SM; Like I said, I'm clever, I know)  
> Prisa: Princess  
> Goufa: Children  
> Skat(en): Boy(s)  
> Hodnes Laik Kwelnes: Love is Weakness  
> Rein Trimani Spin Raun Gonplei: Rain Forest Dance Fight (actually Capoeira, a legit thing, I'm thinking of it kinda a mix with Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu)  
> Mou Yuj Ogeda: Stronger Together (lit. more strong together)  
> Chit: What


	4. Wherein Leksa Loses Klark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leksa loses Klark. I guess the Fotamon do, too, but obviously Leksa is falling in love with her, so that's conflicting for her and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Thoughts ___  
>  _“Translated Trigedasleng”_  
>  “Gonasleng, or Written as Trigedasleng”  
> \- i.e. "Heda" vs _"Commander"_  
>  If that makes sense
> 
> Sorry this took so long! It was originally going to be longer, but I decided to break up the chapters further. Also, I asked TWO people to be my betas and they agreed but then totally ghosted me, so I will use that as an excuse.

Leksa was well and truly angry with herself. If she had been faster, if it hadn’t been raining, if she had been more aware of her surroundings, if they had been more prepared, if the Trikru had been more careful, if, if, if, if.

But that hadn’t been the case

The Trigeda border was in the opposite direction and Heda was confident that Titus, no matter how irritating, could handle Coalition matters for a few days more. Leksa felt awful, but she buried it and assumed her role of Heda, focusing on how she had endangered the life of a fellow leader, and not that it was Klark. Leksa knew she would have to return to Polis afterwards, with or without the unofficial head of the Fotamon. She tried not to think of it.

Besides, love is weakness. Not that she loved Klark, but any sentiment she attached to the girl would impede her ability to lead for the Coalition as a whole rather than personal interests.  _ To be Heda is to be alone, _ she thought, _ and I must prioritize my people, act on logic and not be directed by my heart and emotions. _

So far, the Commander and her General had maintained an air of diplomacy in their interests. A show of feelings now would be seen as ineptitude and lose them the respect between the two people, or at least within the Kongeda. The Rein Trimani cultivated people of peace, the politics much less… stiff than most within the clans, communication open and direct, honesty being more important than egos. But her ways were what they were, and she would not change because of who surrounded her.

Reivon had only briefly conferred with Oktevia and Wels before announcing they would follow the Azkru to rescue Klark, and Tiger was by their side before they left the forest.

Amidst the flurry of leaving, Leksa approached the remaining leaders.  _ “I regret the role I took in the capture of your Woman With The Sun In Her Hair. We will rectify this wrong together.” _

Oktevia rolled her eyes but Wels replied in his soft voice and inveterate hand signs.  _ “Protecting you first and foremost was something we all agreed on. The hit that knocked her out - that was a straight fluke. If I cared about those who Klark so appropriately referred to as “shit-eaters,” I would worry what she will do to them when she wakes up.” _

Klark was an exemplary warrior, but she had been taken by at least a dozen Azkru. In an attempt to quell further concerns, Reivon pitched in.

_ “He’s right. Klark’s a shorty, but that crazy bitch’s tactics work.” _

Leksa still had her doubts, and was plagued by unsettling images of Klark. In each, she was in worse shape than the Fotomon who stayed behind to recover - Paskal with his houmon en yongons, as well as three others who had been injured in the latest Azgeda encounter. In some, she was already headless.

To the Trikru’s relief, furs were brought along, though sparse and covered in the coarse hairs of pauna, and branches that were more narrow but less slick surrounded them. The Fotamon weren’t near as nimble here, the slim, dry branches also sporting considerably fewer vines. The lands they were crossing belonged to one of the more contentious and defiant clans, only causing their caution to grow. The swiftest and strongest gapa they could find was borrowed to carry their scant supplies, leaving them all to move with more ease.

Leksa was torn from a particularly vivid nightmare of finding a sack of blonde hair at the foot of her bed early in the second morn. A scuffle at the edge of camp had roused them all, armed as quickly as she. Murfi had been on watch and physically dragged in two Yujkru by their collars.

“These branwada skrish thought they could spy on us. What will it be, Birdy, O, Jaha, our fearless leaders?” These nicknames weren’t new so the Trikru knew to whom he was referring, although such open disdain for authority had nearly lost him his head more than once.

Trusting not to be recognize if she stayed silent, the Wheel of the Commander a permanent and tell-tale fixture upon her forehead, Leksa drew borrowed silks closer around her to observe how the newcomers were dealt with.

Advancing with graceful menace, Oktevia twirled a short sword to where it rested on one’s shoulder, pressed to and drawing droplets of blood from his neck.  _ “Sixteen gona passed through with one captive. How long ago and in which direction?” _

It was disgusting how easily he broke, only eight broken fingers and four slashes across the chest to prove the seriousness of the unspoken threat. He gave every scrap of information needed and ended with pleads for his life, for his family’s sake, if nothing else. Water of the womb was of the utmost importance in Yujleda, their people strong but more concerned about leaving kin with one less wielded sword and shield.

Oktevia finished carrying out her role and Wels stepped forward.  _ “We won’t kill you two,” _ he informed them pityingly,  _ “but we don’t need two.” _ Wels seemed to be the most peaceful, but the rage radiating off the other Fotamon indicated her smoothly slit throat was, in fact, mercy.

As the second fell, Wells sunk a knife into the first’s outer thigh. He crouched and smiled with deceptive warmth as his victim crumpled with a surprised grunt.  _ “Tell me how to get to Azgeda the safest and quickest. Honesty keeps you alive. Lies ensure your end will be considerably more painful than your companion’s.” _

Wide eyed, he complied as Wells leaned on the blade.

The satisfied man stood.  _ “Tie him on the back of the horse. We have wasted our meal time, so we eat as we go. _ ” HHe turned to Monti,  _ “Clean and wrap his wound, but the knife stays. We leave now.” _

Leksa and her men hardly had time to strap their bed rolls down before they were all up in the trees and off.

 

In the evenings, Heda probed more about their culture, that episode in particular. The supplementary information gave new light to these possible allies and provided a distraction for the guilt ridden Commander in their approach.

_ “To end a fight like I did _ may not be honorable but it was a kindness.” Wels’ soothing hands flitted through the air, words flowing from Gonasleng to Trigedasleng and back. “She seemed more likely to withhold and stand true to her people while he seemed ready to piss himself. She  _ bled quickly, the blade in his leg will do little damage, and we now have someone to return the horse at the border. Keeping it longer benefits neither of our people and may  _ gain local attention. We do strive for peace, but force is necessary to achieve that, whether we like it or not. Remember the man from the village  _ who assaulted another when caught stealing ris?”  _ He waited for confirmation before continuing. “He committed a similar act four moons back, becoming more of a burden than he contributed to the community. We cannot afford a third offense, so the dick hunted poisonous opa  _ until he died. Killing the innocent is nothing we enjoy,”  _ Wels fully faced Leksa for this,  _ “but time is against us and we cannot support two more, or release one and risk exposure.”  _ The habit of the Reinkru to shrug most things off exhibited itself as the speaker returned his attention to the fire. “Contradictory, maybe, but misplaced faith can really fuck you over.”   
  
  


Six days of hard travel to and through Podakru lands had them at the winter’s frontier. Burtork, their captive, largely avoided the populated routes, even past Yujleda. Although Heda was familiar with the area, she had never worried about passing unseen and was incredibly relieved to have the new addition. He also insisted the Azkru they were pursuing were likely on a longer, more discrete route, one that would have them arriving within the next two days at most, in the strip of dead land from that point to a day’s ride east. Wells sternly denied Oktevia his death, removed his knife, tightened the wound’s bindings, and released him. Burtork scampered off, tail and horse between his legs, likely to report how he was assailed by and bravely escaped twenty bear-sized Rein Trimani people.

That sleepless night was spent spreading over the rocky steppe, all on watch. The Trikru were staggered so the Reinkru could relay their signals to them.

The following day was painfully uneventful, but at twilight, Reinkru rushed to converge on Sena, a Trikru gona, who the Azkru had passed near. She had called out, but was swiftly silenced by a kick to the gut and pommel to the temple. Harper had found her and estimated that it took half a candle mark, leaving the Azkru well in their territory, one neither people were comfortable with, and a lead they could not match.

Only Tiger forged on.

The Fotamon didn’t wait to spar off their pent up frustration, and even Reivon ate wordlessly before they set off to Polis as the sun teased the sky. They pressed even faster than they had in the race to the border, familiar enough with the trees now that the Trikru (now carrying their packs and combatting their companions’ chagrin) often struggled to keep up. Usually at least four days on foot was crammed into less than three, and Polis Tower was barely visible before they bounded off.

 

Leksa couldn’t blame them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you how aren't as familiar with Trigedasleng as I think I am (Thank you Google!)
> 
> Houmon en Youngons: Wife and Children (Offspring)  
> Yujleda: Broadleaf Clan  
> Yujledakru: A Person Of The Broadleaf Clan  
> Gona: Warrior(s)  
> Opa: Frogs (SM: Hoppers -> Hoppa -> Opa) (I did forget this one when I initially posted this chapter; sorry!)
> 
> Please give me feedback! If I sound condescending or like an ass in general, know that it's mostly because I feel the need to over explain when I'm not sure if things make sense only in my head or not.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!


	5. Wherein Klark Meets Nia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klark takes a little "vay-cay" to Azgeda.
> 
> Again, this wasn't meant to take so long to get posted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Thoughts ___  
>  _“Translated Trigedasleng”_  
>  “Gonasleng, or Written as Trigedasleng”  
> \- i.e. "Heda" vs _"Commander"_  
> 

Klark was continuously drugged on her journey, woken twice daily (she assumed) to eat, but otherwise unconscious. Every mouthful held whatever it was they used to keep her asleep. When she first realized, she refused to eat or drink, but the Azkru simply held her already bound body and forced her mouth open. After the fifth or sixth time, Klark stopped resisting, and around the tenth time, they brought her hands to the front so she could feed herself, though they tied down her upper arms to compensate.

It was hard to be certain, but she theorized it took twelve days for them to stop and rouse her just outside massive walls with a single low but wide gate. A formidable fortress was visible behind it, apparently built into the mountain that formed the rear rampart. Gagged, the cloths around her head and face were replaced with burlap before they rode through the town beyond the walls. She was then dragged through halls only marginally warmer than outside. Consciousness was still returning, so Klark couldn’t have heard the conversation when they stopped if she had wanted to. After a few minutes, doors opened and she was hauled past them to be thrown to the floor on the opposite side of the room.

Groaning softly and feeling much more awake, Klark pulled to her knees to wait. After a long stretch of complete silence, there was a light rustle as someone moved toward her. The click of hard soled shoes on an unforgiving surface reminded her so much of the Ark, she barely had time to suppress her shiver of revulsion before the sack was yanked from her head.

Eyes as piercing and blue as ice, framed by unmistakable scarification, adorned the face of a woman with her back strategically to a sizable window. Squinting and blinking but refusing to crane her neck, Klark glared.

“Den oso hit op, Deimeika Stranon Gada. Ai laik Nia, Kwin kom Azgeda,  _ and now of you.” _ She did not mince words, nor smile even mockingly.  _ “You have two options here. Either you agree to work with me, or we pry information out of you.” _

The Sun Haired Woman (long past being a girl) maintained what dignity she could in pulling out her gag. “Chit dula op yu gaf in?”

Nia all but talked over Klark in her haste to reply.  _ “You want to survive. You want to protect your people. So do I. You spent time with dear Heda recently, and I am willing to offer you and your people a safe home in exchange for fighting the occasional pauna, and all you know of Leksa.” _

Azgeda was known to be belligerent, but how nonchalantly this national leader referred to her Commander raised more warning flags, but there was no time to linger on that yet.

Although nowhere is entirely safe, the Fallen had made a home for themselves in the Trimani. Klark had talked in length with Leksa, so they were fairly familiar with each other, personally and politically. She also knew she had begun to care for the burnette. Love may be weakness, but she couldn’t find an honest sliver in her that wanted to cooperate legitimately and willingly. Unfortunately, it was explicitly clear the alternative was less than pleasant, to speak lightly. All she had to decide was whether being bullheaded or serpentine would end better.

She creasing her brow.  _ “I’ve only spent a couple days with her.” _

_ “I believe you are more perceptive than you let on, maybe even realize yourself. Anything you share will be sufficient, but I swear this to you - should you make the choice to withhold anything, it will be your last.” _

Klark chose snake.

It was adequate at first, but she could never relax. She was under constant observation, at Nia’s side more often than not. The entirety of Azgeda was novel to her, and if she thought Trikru had sticks up their asses… 

Although Leksa had explained some of their more formal and egotistical civics, it was absurd how the most fatuous matters were blown ridiculously out of proportion in the name of honor.

Every forced change was lamented. Hardened leather plates were added in and under her silks as a more substantial armor, with many furs piled on top. The Ark had been dry and cool, but tolerably so; contrarily, the forest was exceptionally humid. Azgeda took cold to a whole new level for the newcomer. The furs were gratefully received, and she saw the use of the irksome armor, but the rough and thick wool socks that layered over foot wraps she absolutely refused to relinquish annoyed Klark to no end, more so after boots were reluctantly added over it all. The sensation of not feeling the ground upon which she walked was one of the most unsettling adjustments, one more similarity shared with the damned space can. There were dozens of smaller things: living in enclosed buildings, walking strictly on the floor, the deafening lack of the buzz of the forest, the bland foods, the retracted dispositions, the disturbing dearth of hygiene. Azkru might clean themselves every other day, where Reinkru washed at least thrice a day - not scrubbing, but rinsing off the accumulated sweat and grime. Klark’s skin crawled as she was forced to concede to once a day.

Nia asked her few questions on her life in the sky and forest, but wheeded mostly on Heda. Open and honest communication was highly valued in the Trimani, and though she made a concentrated effort, the persistent habit begat revelations she didn’t realize were private, like the name of her horse, or closest handmaiden, or the metal of her swords. She never once back tracked, doing what damage control she could and learning from her fuck ups.

By the tenth day, Klark did not doubt Leksa had heard of her arrangement, and what the other would expect it to mean. There were even rumors of an amassing army within the Coalition - not against Azgeda, no, never ever - but Nia seemed unperturbed.

She wasn’t allowed weapons or to train with the gona, but a circle was (skeptically) drawn in the courtyard with an unobstructed view from all angles for her to regularly perform routines of the Spin Raun Gonplei. There were suspicions about its purpose in Reinkru culture, but no substantial evidence. It was questionable with or without a partner, as much time was spent with limbs flying through the air, but that was offset by the constant motion of acrobatic twists and spins, rolls and dives, jumps and flips. To a great degree, it did resemble old earth dances from the video archives on the Ark - broken dancing, maybe? In the end, they didn’t feel it a probable threat, some guards preferring to watch her during these times, considering excess clothing was often removed as the exertion caused even her silks to feel stifling, freezing temperatures or no. Her curvaceous figure was a blessing in disguise - inconvenient for the acts themselves, but that and the overall flexibility drawing the eyes from the muscular requirements. Once Klark had seen them train, even if from a distance, why became even more clear. They stayed so upright with rigid and methodical exercises, where she was so close to the ground, transitioning from standing on her feet to her hands, forearms, or knees, virtually scriptless.

Apprehension was her constant companion. Every negligible misstep was punishable, though usually in the form of guards, and nothing else the prisoner in all but name couldn’t handle. The lack of metaphorical explosion only added to the lurking trepidation, and she longed daily to return to her family. She especially missed Wells’ imperturbable tranquility, Oktevia’s pensive stability, and Reivon’s ardent optimism. The Fotamon ultimately deferred to Klark, but the three shared her burden of leadership, and she was desperate for the comfort of their support. It came to the point where she found herself thinking back on Belomi and Finn, both tenacious but sensitive, even if the older thought he concealed his bleeding heart. She reminisced about the others that had been lost, recalling the faces that hadn’t lived to see the twins, then those that hadn’t even lived to see the ground. Somehow, thoughts of the dead only bred listlessness, where it had long inspired perseverance and lent her courage in desperate times. In her opinion, it took far too long for her to start awake in the middle of the night and realize that that was exactly the intent. Any possible ambivalent feelings evaporated into rancor, and she spent every spare moment thereafter contemplating not a way to escape, but to raze the monarch completely.

Her emotional turmoil was interrupted by the day she had been dreading.

In the midst of her morning dancing drills, a guard wordlessly stepped into Klark’s circle, who followed uneasily but without protest. She did what Reivon called “Going on Red Alert”: eyes darting to every movement, arms loose and ready for action, weight shifted onto the balls of her feet. It was to clear and focus her mind in high adrenaline situations, usually for hunting or being hunted by one of the many predators of the forest, but now it was to prepare for the confrontation with Nia. She was immediately granted audience to the throne room. The first order of business, a physical presence in the room, was not what Klark had anticipated.

“Tiger.” She realized her mistake only after rushing to her ally’s side, stopped a few feet from the straining fina.

_ “So you do know the beast.” _ Klark had to grit her teeth to refrain from spitting on the Kwin.  _ “It was found preying on the herds of elk our people rely on, but it looked to be from your lands, so I ordered it captured - alive - and brought back, for you.” _ They were carefully watched, finally falling into each other’s arms, relieved tears forming as the human was once again smothered by the animal she was unsure she would have seen again otherwise.

Nia gracefully came to rest on her throne.  _ “If it was possible,” _ she began,  _ “your people would already be here with you, but I have now sent two messengers with no reply. Evidently, there are too many risks involved, and I cannot permit further endangering my men.” _

_ “I understand.” _ The promise to house the Fotamon had been an unfulfilled and hollow one, and any hope Klark harbored was fast fading. There was a more pressing matter to address, so once the protesting fina was brought out of the room, the blonde moved to kneel in front of the throne, body screaming to defy.

_ “I neglected your presence for one of an old friend. It will not happen again.” _ The words were painful, but Klark needed to play by their restrictive rules, particularly now that they had Tiger.

_ “That is not why you are here,”  _ Nia dismissed.  _ “A gathering of the clan leaders has been called. We leave in four days’ time and arrive in Polis eight days after. You will accompany myself and Ontari as a member of my personal consult.” _

That was what Klark had known was fast approaching but wished would never come. She hated the implications of what she needed to and would say, as she had no choice.

With a valiant attempt at a smile, her answer was, “ _ Of course, _ my Kwin.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you how aren't as familiar with Trigedasleng as I think I am (Thank you Google!)
> 
> Den Oso Hit Op: So We Meet  
> Deimeika Stranon Gada: Sun Haired Girl  
> Ai Laik Nia, Kwin kom Azgeda: I Am Nia, Queen of the Ice Nation  
> Chit Dula Op Yu Gaf In: What Do You Want  
> Spin Raun Gonplei: Dance Fight (Of The Rain Forest; referencing a mix of Capoeira and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu)  
> Fotamon: Fallen (the Delinquents)
> 
> I know it's not great, so please comment, and remember that I'm not trying to be an ass in my replies, I'm just naturally abrasive, sadly.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me (I'm assuming)!


	6. Wherein Klark Meets Polis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke has dinner with Lexa (kinda).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Thoughts ___  
>  _“Translated Trigedasleng”_  
>  “Gonasleng, or Written as Trigedasleng”  
> \- i.e. "Heda" vs _"Commander"_  
>  Or  
> “Translated Trigedasleng”  
> “Gonasleng, or Written as Trigedasleng”  
> \- i.e. "Heda" vs "Commander"

Using a pack rather than the compartments of her silks had been phrased as a suggestion but brokered no argument; it was checked, double checked, and checked again. Sometimes it was blatant, but more often it was discreet, the only signs in the little changes to the positioning of the bag or its contents. It didn’t matter though. She had very little and nothing to hide, select weapons freely returned to her the day they left. Tiger was even sanctioned to be used as her mode of transportation, the quadruped more than happy to oblige to the rare occurrence. They were provided a tent as well, but she forewent the offered bedding in favor of curling against the beast. This was one of endless foreign things the Azkru did not understand so felt threatened by, the seemingly daily increase in guards thusly expected.

It took almost exactly eight days of travel to reach Polis. As they approached, Klark gaped at the sprawling city as she was shuffled from the middle of the pack to the front, next to the Kwin of the Ice Nation. The gates swung outward slowly to reveal a strikingly beautiful Leksa (the only one who didn’t start at the sight of Tiger) in full Commander garb but only the Wheel of the Commander adorning her kohl-free features, her personal guard at her back to greet them. Suddenly, the city lost its allure. Guilt assailed Klark, knowing she was aiding and abetting one of the most dangerous enemies to the Kongeda, even if she hadn’t proffered anything truly useful as of yet. When Nia delightedly introduced their “Rainforest guest,” said guest met a blank stare with one she loaded with as much explanation as she could. There was a pause to search the pleading eyes before Heda’s piercing gaze moved to the next in line.

_ No reaction is a good reaction,  _ Klark tried telling herself. She then noticed Nia and Ontari watching closely with small smirks and hoped she had not let on too much. Not that there was anything beyond an amicable political understanding. They hadn’t even spent a week together, and the Heda of the Twelve Clans wasn’t, couldn’t be interested in her in any other way. It was evident that Klark needed to calculate every move while in the capitol and avoid Leksa - er, Heda altogether, just in case.

They were handed off to the Master of Polis Tower when they arrived at the base of the building. The younger woman was pleased at the power move, but the kwin and her seken stiffened as both accepted the assistance, keenly aware of the slight.

Tiger didn’t move from Klark’s side, much to the dismay of those who passed, but the blonde’s scathing looks shut any mouth that dared open. The whole building vaguely reminded Klark of the Ark, though she couldn’t quite place why, even the elevator similar to those in the space station; she deduced all old world elevators must look the same. The fina remained calm, stepping so gingerly Klark couldn’t help the affection that flooded her as they made their way to the fourth floor, where they would be staying. Tiger was such a good girl, and she was reminded of that repeatedly once in the privacy of their room.

They arrived mid-afternoon with the meeting the day after next, so the two opted to get extra sleep while in reasonable comfort and safety. As they were accustomed to, they naturally woke four candle marks later and began an inspection of their rooms, even with the low to nonexistent likelihood of someone entering unnoticed. Just as they had picked apart the conjoined bathroom, there were padded footsteps and a knock. Klark doubted anyone intending her harm would announce themselves and replaced the short swords she had drawn upon hearing the out-of-place gait. The girl at her door wore the attire of a Heda Handmaiden, but more stood at Nia, Ontari, and Ambassador Ivon’s doors. Swallowing her disappointment, she requested that Tiger be fed as well, knowing she would not be welcomed to the dinner, sadly.

~~~~

Leksa couldn’t deny it was good to see Klark again, no matter how hard she tried. Yes, it was a relief she was unharmed, but that likely meant she was offering information of her own volition, the notion stinging more than it should. This convention would be the perfect opportunity for the Azplana to make her move, so she’d find out what she had learned soon enough.

Dinner was as spectacular as it was meant to be, with three full courses and dessert. Leaders, ambassadors, Generals, and other representatives from the ten clans who had reached the capital chattered away, where Leksa nibbled quietly at the head of the table, Titus on her right and her personal guard Gostos on her left. The Rangers served as sentinels for the event, their General, Tristan, watching from a corner - she didn’t appreciate the almost hungry glares he sent the blonde’s way. Everyone present eyed the new comer, but Onya looked ready to strangle her, back to being as distrusting as ever.

The Azgeda sat with Ivon furthest from her, Ontari between him and Nia, then Klark, closest to Leksa and next to Uzac, the Yujleda Ambassador. The order was concerning, considering the Fotamon’s recent trip (with Leksa, Onya, and several of their gona, but that was undiscovered as of yet). Despite the tension, the brunette couldn’t help swelling a bit with pride as the Sun Woman explored the array of vegetables, fruits, meats, and herbs that the Kongeda had to offer, unlike anything in the forest.

Leksa had suspected this moment would come but dread still bubbled when Uzac finally spoke.  _ “I believe your people passed through our lands a moon or two back.” _

Not so much as glancing at the speaker, Klark sustained her neutral expression and continued eating. “En?” The table shot nervous looks between the two and Nia (who ignored it all) before trying to keep up their conversations. Heda knew where this was going, but couldn’t interrupt, and she could see the outsider wanted to contribute as little as possible. Although this was technically a foreign affair, they were on Kongeda grounds, and Klark would have to meet Yujleda terms, where both parties would have otherwise come to a compromise in a neutral setting while respecting each other's cultures. But now, Reinkru customs may wells not exist, so there they were, playing this game of cat and hapless mouse.

_ “They killed a scout and injured another.” _

All noise stopped at this, clan leaders studying the scene as their subordinates stared intently at their plates.

Leksa was both humored and impressed with how politely the Reinkru grit out, “ _ My apologies _ .”

“Moba? Dei de ste ogeda yu don gon biyo?!” The Dona of the Broadleaf Clan rose, sputtering in her fury.  _ “Your people have murdered one of mine, a crime that cannot go unpunished!” _

Heda thought how this woman was no more physically intimidating than the twins in comparison to any pounda the Fallen regularly dealt with, but Klark still needed to go along with it all relatively nicely, especially with the Dona holding the status she did.  _ “I was not present at the time, so have no right to speak on the incident. If you wish for retribution, you will undoubtedly need to pursue those in question through the forest to claim what you seek.” _ Careful not to reveal her face or spill a drop, she deliberately sipped the paired wine, seemingly to needle the woman, but the Commander saw how the hand holding the chalice shook slightly, knuckles white with force, the eating knife flipping around the opposite fingers.

The Dona leapt behind Klark who sighed and set the wine down, leaning back as her chair was spun away from the table, crossing an ankle over a knee and gripping the offered shin as spittle flew.  _ “You dare insult me? Have you no honor?” _

Leksa could only assume the blonde was running out of patience and civility as quickly as she, if not quicker.  _ “You know the actions you may take. I will not stop you, but, a fair warning, the pounda might, as would the people you have threatened.” _

Klark was hoisted into the air by the front of her clothes and nobody dared breath.

Nia would never lift a finger to aid the younger woman, so it was completely unexpected when she did come to her defense, though the tone was beyond bored.  _ “Leave it, Sofi. The forest people are not of the Coalition, so are not bound by our laws.” _

Leksa internally cursed the blonde, who tilted her head at the woman dangling her in the air, taking her insolence a step too far. Tossed away as carelessly as a used rag, leather bound hand and feet skid a short way on the polished wood floor as Sofi drew the dagger she had concealed. The verbal ambushed was likely planned, the seating arrangement probably even altered to accommodate it, but Heda had foolishly hoped it would remain that - verbal. She gripped the arm of her chair as Klark ducked easily under the swipe the Dona lashed out, and sidestepped the back swing intended to literally stab her in the back, sending the offender stumbling a step with the momentum.

_ “That’s enough, Dona Sofi. If you wish to settle your quarrel, find a more appropriate site.”  _ The room stilled as Leksa finally snapped, rationalizing that speaking on the blonde’s behalf was purely political and entirely impersonal… even if it was more impassioned than was warranted.

It was then the knife Klark had been fiddling with was imbedded in the table through Uzac’s hand. Barring Heda, everyone jumped to their feet, including the pinned and now screaming man. Leksa was furious. This wasn’t like the woman she had begun to care about, at all, but that only meant Nia had wasted no time in polluting her. Contradicting the welling concerns, and to the Commander’s relief, the one in question plucked a blow-dart gun, no more than a straw, really, from his hand and waved it for everyone to see.

~~

Klark narrowed her eyes dangerously. “Chit ste disha?” The man’s already pale skin went sheet white, but he didn’t speak. “Chon sen op yu gon dula op disha?” Though it seemed he had regained his voice, he only to stammered incomprehensibly. “Chon ste em gon?” She rephrased, raising her voice. Whatever foolishness inspired his responselessness was the last mistake he ever made. With a shrug of frustration, Klark huffed,  _ “It’s your life on the line now,” _ and turned the straw upside down and tapped the single, minuscule dart to drop next to the blade. With the increased flow of blood to and from the sluggishly bleeding wound, the poison tipping it spread faster than average. The man stuttered momentarily before slumping onto the table.

“Chon ste yu?” Dona Sofi asked, incredulous and horrified.

As casually as she had avoided the attack, killed the man, and now retrieved and cleaned the knife, came “Klark.” She hated ending anyone’s fight, but his intent had obviously been to end someone else’s, possibly even Heda’s. He wouldn’t have gotten away, but the damage would have been done, and the Dona could argue she had no part in it.

Lost in thought, Klark didn’t notice the hands until they pulled off both hair and facial coverings. She grabbed and snapped the assailant’s arm, fixing the cloth with a deepening scowl. Why couldn’t they leave well enough alone?

The spell shattered and everyone was in an uproar, demanding and questioning, slamming their fists on the table, looking to their Heda but pointing at Klark. Being the one to have exposed the woman as The One With Sun in Her Hair, Sofi howled at her broken wrist, recovering quickly to join. The Commander let their voices be heard for a minute as Klark longed for more of the meat she still didn’t know the name of.

“Hosh, en!” The unusually taciturn Titus finally spoke up, scowling until he got his way. “Heda na nau chich.”

Heda Leksa’s glare demanded enough authority that everyone settled back in their seats, if disgruntled, and if only for the moment.  _ “Both will be punished for the aggressions made within my presence, at a peaceful, weaponless meal.”  _ Her even and low voice rippled through the room, rendering Klark’s attempt to quell the shiver it induced useless. She also had to reel in some thoughts that wandered to notions... unfit for the present circumstance. “ _ The would-be-assassin is dead, thus answering for his crime. Dona Sofi will receive thirty lashes for arming herself when she should not have, initiating the fight, and for pursuing it after what available explanation was given and her opponent made it clear she did not wish to engage in any argument - thirty for each offense. Killing in the presence of Heda outside of battle is ordinarily met with two hundred lashes. As the kill was that of an assassin and saved any one of your lives,” _ she emphasized,  _ “Klark kom Rein Trimani will only receive an hundred and fifty, but the customary hundred for injuring a leader of the clans, her fighting hand no less, despite the act one of perceived self-defense.” _

With the ruckus slowly starting back up, Klark went on Red Alert to consider her sentencing. Such form of punishment was unlike anything the Forest, much less Ark, would ever use, so the entire situation would be novel to her. Refusal was met with an immediate period of banishment no less than four cycles, lasting until Heda saw fit to lift it, so her reaction to that option was a resounding and selfish no. Klark was more than frustrated to end with nearly thrice the lashes the person who instigated the fight and almost assuredly orchestrated the attempted assassination had. Leksa had chosen to completely reword that bit, placing all blame squarely on the dead man. It was evident the Broadleaf Clan was behind this, but with the one person who could provide undeniable proof being dead, she could do jack shit. The immediate threat had been dealt with, and though Klark regretted her haste, she couldn’t regret the actions themselves.

Having stared at Leksa for much too long, the blonde finally blurted,  _ “Should I be prepared for dawn or mid-day?” _

Grateful surprise fluttered in green eyes for a moment before being put to bed with all other emotions, tucked away like exhausted babes.  _ “You will both arrive before sunrise. Dona Sofi will take the pole first. Klark kom Reinkru will be present for the duration of both lashings, but the Dona will be received by a healer that will be on hand and will not be bound to stay. Treatment for Klark will be tolerated, but none will be provided.”  _ With that, Heda left, dour-faced Titus and Gostos on her heels, and just as the sweet cakes were brought in.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> En: And, also Everyone  
> Moba: Apologies, or Sorry  
> Ste Dei De Ogeda Yu Don Gon Biyo: Is That All You Have To Say  
> Chit Ste Disha: What Is This  
> Chon Sen Op Yu Gon Dula Op Disha: Who Sent You To Do This  
> Chon Ste Em Gon: Who Is It For  
> Chon Ste Yu: Who Are You  
> Hosh, En: Quiet, Everyone  
> Heda Na Nau Chich: The Commander Will Now Talk
> 
> Sadly, I will be unreachable and unable to work on this for the next two weeks. I will be back in full force as soon as I can be!


	7. Wherein I am a Disappointment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so sorry, my life is basically shit right now, so this is just to apologize. I also felt I was losing touch with the characters as originally depicted in the show, so I’m rewatching all that now, too. I have by no means stopped, though! I’m still working on it all, I’m just also taking much longer than usual.  
> Again, I’m so sorry to have done this to you (all five of you who read this (just kidding, I have eyes and can see the kudos, so the five members who give kudos as guests as well)). I can’t promise any time frame but soon.  
> Thank you for tolerating me!

~~~~~~~~

Sorry

~~~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, here are[ clan borders and major sites](https://photos.google.com/photo/AF1QipOa4irjFiIFNOFlSLWygBa_6bLIsdclIprPB243), according to me and my fic.
> 
>  


	8. Wherein Klark Calms TF Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little bit of Anxious!Clarke  
> I figured I owed ya'll SOMETHING (1k words) after keeping ya'll waiting so long. It's not much, but the next chapter will definitely be considerably longer to compensate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Thoughts ___  
>  _“Translated Trigedasleng”_  
>  “Gonasleng, or Written as Trigedasleng”  
> \- i.e. "Heda" vs _"Commander"_  
> 

Klark was swarmed before the door touched the frame. Non-stop questions of her presence, challenges as to whether she was  **the** Woman With the Sun In Her Hair or not, berations for the insolence of the kill, death threats, and much else barraged her.

Nia and Ontari guiltlessly abandoned her after a brief address.  _ “I bid you all restful sleep, and hope to lunch on the morrow with as many of you as are available.” _

Completely alone, Klark was overwhelmed in the short while it took her to extricate herself from the suffocating room. Leaving the Tower altogether, she let out a trilling whistle that brought Tiger leaping down to her. Not wanting to frighten the good people of Polis, they climbed the nearest roof and began their decamp.

She couldn’t think coherently, gasping in short burst unfit for the energy she was exerting. There were so many people, so much unnatural noise, and all for so long. Everything was just wrong, wrong, wrong. She felt out of place here, yes, but she missed her family, her people.

They didn’t pause as they leapt from the edge of buildings Klark didn’t remember crossing, knowing Tiger would be underneath her before she met the ground. She was right, of course, and the fina landed lightly on one of the many poles jutting from the outer city wall. Bounding from one to the next, they flew past the bewildered guards who didn’t have a chance to fire off more than half a dozen arrows before they disappeared under the tree cover and into the setting sun.

Shit, but Klark missed it. It hardly compared to the massive trunks that reached into the clouds, the endless foliage, the chatter of animals she had grown familiar with, and the constant but varying degrees of rain, but it far surpassed the cold, harsh angles of Azgeda, and the cramped clutter of Polis. The soundtrack of the woods was a muted parody of the forest’s, but it was infinitely more gratifying than the the snow-swallowed shuffling and barked orders of Nia’s stronghold, the racket of the city streets, and the ceaseless clattering chatter of the Tower.

They ran the pacifying branches until Klark’s breathing and heart rate evened out, fingers loosening their death grip on Tiger’s fur, thoughts swirling into rhythm with the  _ thu-thum, thu-thum _ of the paws that carried her. She couldn’t say how long it had been before they slowed to a stop, but twilight had come and gone, the night steadily deepening. In a moon bathed glade, the rider slid off her mount who slunk off to hunt.

For a long while, Klark danced. In the forest, a certain type of tree grew, one more forgiving than others used to strengthen and callus the top of the feet through repeated kicking. Growing up on the Ark had given the Fallen little reason to need such protection, so Shiben had pushed them to do it often. After the initial frustration and pain of the act, it became one that gave at least Klark a certain amount of soothing satisfaction. With no such trees this far north, she settled for sparring with young trees. She cleared her mind and thought of nothing else. It was just her kicking (and occasionally hitting) the tree. The rough, dry bark cut into her where the leather did not protect, eventually biting through and drawing blood; the pain grounded her, giving her something physical and immediate to focus on.

When Tiger returned, the blonde took to agitated, wordless chatter in Trimanisleng. The trek back from their destinationless journey held plenty of time for Klark to process the embarrassment of the meal and her actions that followed.

The thought struck her then that Nia would doubtlessly be furious, and have any number of gona vainly scouring the woods for her. She told her companion many times that she didn’t give a fuck, flying or otherwise, hoping she would believe it if she said it enough.

About a candle mark later, Tiger suddenly altered course and the human trustingly matched. When they entered canyons that split off like blood vessels, the faint din of a  _ wor trap _ finally reached Klark. Her hearing was decent, but her left ear had never fully recovered from the flash bomb, being left the least competent of the Fotamon in that aspect. She also soon noticed a distinct shade in rocks placed too perfectly - nearly blending in with the sienna around it, but standing out enough to act as trail markers. Many predators and prey in the Trimani camouflaged themselves to be as indistinguishable from their surroundings as possible; if her time there hadn’t attuned her to small changes in color, she would have overlooked it and almost did, as most would and were meant to.

Once the noise grew too close for comfort, they scrabbled up the awkwardly unforgiving surface of a nearby column to continue forward. Given the clear vantage point of the surrounding maze, Klark should have realized sooner that it was the obvious watch position. Motioning for Tiger to stand down as the guards converged on them, the woman noted the marks of Trigeda, Trishana, Ingranrona, and even the soft spoken Louwoda Kliron, clans most dedicated to the Kongeda and loyal to Heda. The ropes around Klark’s wrists and the chains on the anxiously prancing Tiger were essentially useless, but they did not resist being led so.

Those they passed jumped to their feet, some physically reeling from the intruders who eventually came to a halt outside the least tattered and windblown tent. One of the several guarding it ducked inside momentarily before holding the flap open for the blonde to stride past, shoulders back and chin up.

Klark had expected Heda, expected the aloofness, the looming intimidation of Gostos behind her, but arched a brow at the branched throne she was seated on.

She had even forgotten about the wor kohl... and,  _damn_ _ ,  _ that _armour_.

God, it looked good on her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigedasleng:  
> Wor Trap: War Camp  
> Wor Kohl: War Paint (roughly)
> 
> Love y'all!  
> And please leave comments (+constructive criticism?)


	9. Wherein Trust is Restored

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, I am ashamed. I get to a point where if I don't make the decision to just post it, I know I'll spend another two and a half months dicking around.  
> Kinda fluff? I don't really know. Lots of dialogue and 3k words, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Thoughts ___  
>  _“Translated Trigedasleng”_  
>  “Gonasleng, or Written as Trigedasleng”  
> \- i.e. "Heda" vs _"Commander"_  
> 

“Chit hkom oso lid in yu hir, Klark kom Reinkru?”

Right to the chase. What  _ was _ she doing there?

Leksa was still uncertain how she felt about the entire situation. There was anger and ambivalent betrayal, yes, but also relief, maybe even fear for her safety, though it was evident no serious bodily injury had been inflicted. Meeting at the gate, the incident at dinner, right then and there in the tent - so many conflicting emotions and urges warred, she didn’t know what to do. Although she wasn’t sure whether there had been any duplicity, she fervently hoped there hadn’t.

The chains on the fina were being secured to a steel loop embedded deep in the main post of the tent, but Klark simply cocked her head. “Oso don sen in yu wor trap.”

Despite the obvious and extreme disadvantage, the visitor’s stance was firm, gaze confident - defiant even - words and hands (though restricted in their bonds) flowing steadily. It all attracted attention from the hammering vein nearly bursting from the side of her neck.

Leksa snapped her eyes from the other’s pulse point, swallowing hard, but stayed in a near-slouch on her throne.  _ “How can I know you are not here to take inventory, to report to the less peaceful?” _

_ “There’s nothing you will believe, but neither can I tell you of Azgeda’s preparations.” _

Heda rose to her feet, a flare of anger momentarily winning out, dismissing the direct allegation against the unproven enemy.  _ “Cannot, or will not?” _ she demanded.

“You think Nia trusts me?” Klark snorted. _ “She brought me because she likes to showboat. Also, she doesn’t think anyone else can handle me.” _

Leksa ignored the foreign boat term.  _ “Then what are you doing in my camp? Unless she and her men lay in wait?” _

_ “You think I trust Nia?”  _ Humor ticked Klark’s lip upward at the accusation, but Leksa knew Klark knew it was a valid point.  _ “If, for whatever reason, _ I had led her gona here, I’d lose use and interest, then killed.”

Heda narrowed her eyes and clenched her jaw, debating whether she was thankful or frustrated Titus had stayed at the Tower to tend to matters there. Whether she wanted to or not, she cared for the infuriating Fotamon.

“Or kep klin em de gonen.” Klark gave a small lift of a shoulder, jutting her chin as she fought both a smirk and trembling lip.  _ “Execute instead of beat me in the morning. It’s a perfect power move and sends a strong message to everyone, more so with the summit here.” _

Heda all but lunged at the mere thought, stopping less than a hands’ width from the other. The tent was filled with the ringing of metal as all drew weapons, even Klark easily shedding her restraints in preparation of defense. Tiger moved closer, snarling, pausing at the minuscule signal from the blonde. Bated breath was stifling as the two young women shared a glare, challenging and pleading

“Bants,” Heda grit out, waving to those around her.

The gona were hesitant to leave their Heda with not one, but two mysterious intruders, duty calling them to obey, but loyalty bidding them stay, to protect. “Nau!” she snapped, frustrated with their seeming lack of trust in her ability. As they began to slowly filter out, Gostos only scowled deeper, unwilling to move. Reading his question, his concern, clear on his face, she nodded purposely. The man dipped his head a fraction in his begrudged retreat.

_ “ _ Nawe _ ,” _ was Leksa’s pained growl, absent of any hint of the domineering Commander, a conflicted Tiger mimicking it. “Never think inflicting pain is something I do lightly.” The words did wound her pride, but she felt genuine hurt on a personal level. Is this truly what she thought of her?

After a tense minute, Klark sagged and Leksa instinctively moved to steady her, barely catching herself.  _ “ _ Ai get in. _ It is one of many ways in which we are similar.” _

There was long breath where Leksa could only stare into blue, but they held only pure honesty and green softened considerably.  _ “I am glad you are unharmed, Klark,”  _ she murmured, catching the urge to lift a hand to trace the face before her. She did notice the slight shiver when she said the name; she didn’t mention it.  _ “I lament I have ordered that change.” _ As if to prove a point, broken skin and dried blood chose that moment to draw Leksa’s attention. Tearing a strip off her shirt and grabbing a cup of water that sat on a nearby table, the woman behind Heda delicately lifted Klark’s fingers to closer inspect and carefully clean the blonde’s knuckles. Tiger accepted that as a good sign and settled against the post to supervise the rest of the interaction.

It was a snort more than a chuckle that escaped Klark, but her eyes were filled with fondness and never left the face in front of her. “You can’t make politics personal, and I did bring it on myself _. I reacted without thinking.” _ Her voice had become a little more rough, making it harder for the brunette to focus.

If this had happened two years ago, maybe even one, she  _ would  _ have made these politics personal, let her emotions sway her sentencing. She thought she had learned enough from Kostia, but then she had engaged in even the most casual of encounters with Sasha kom Boudalankru, and she didn’t meet a happy end, either. By now, the importance of keeping those she cared for in equal standing with all others and the depth of her care for them a secret was well ingrained.

The thought of both wild haired women no longer brought the grief it once did, but rather a mournful ache, and even that had lessened, more so since first meeting the Deimeika Stranon Strat.

“Think next time,” she chided, shaking free from her thoughts. “No, do not let there be a ‘next time.’ _ Onya will likely yell at me for your rashness, and what I had to do in response.” _ The lightness to her reprimand elicited a real, if soft, laugh from Klark as she placed her free hand on the gently dabbing one. Leksa nearly jumped when she realized this was the most physical contact they had had since their initial meeting. Nobody touched Heda like this. No one touched her with affection beyond a meaningful grasp of her forearm, no one since Sasha. She paused in her work, but Blue Eyes wasn’t about to let go, so she moved on to clean the newly (and incidentally) proffered hand. 

_ “Onya does seem pissed with me. She looked ready to _ leap across the table all throughout dinner. Hell, I wouldn’t’ve blamed her.”

“She would not have.” The reply was instant and sharp as the speaker stiffened, tightening her grip. “ _ She knows what you mean to me- as Heda. And to the Coalition. As a whole.”  _ Leksa cursed her lapse in concentration, however brief, that allowed the confession. _ “Such an act would not be tolerated, especially considering the summit. Dinner, for example,” _ she rushed, dropping her arms and attempting to pull away. “ _ If there had been less people present, things would be-” _

The hand clasped to her was joined with another, catching her wrist, stopping her physical retreat and verbal floundering.

She met those piercing but attentive eyes again, unwilling to relent to her wants just yet. Her people and her responsibilities to them would always come first.  _ Damn her, _ she thought.  _ Damn it all. To be Heda is to be alone. I learned that lesson well. Whatever it is between us, it cannot progress. _

Klark wasn’t giving in either. Though neither spoke, Leksa felt the silent reassurance and haltingly abated.

They fell into a comfortable quietude, and Leksa reveled in the minor contact, hoping (correctly) the recipient was doing the same. Nothing outside the two existed, and the older let inhibitions slip away, taking in the presence of the Sun Woman. She would have filled the air with conversation of any sort, but it felt so inappropriate to disturb their little bubble in time.

_ Love is weakness, love is weakness, love is weakness,  _ Leksa repeated to herself. This was no time to be caught infatuated, end of story.

Stiltedly untangling to clasp her hands behind her back, Leksa coughed awkwardly and Klark pointedly averted her gaze, the former pretending not to notice the faint dejection that was blinked away.

_ “Nia will be looking for me. Granted, _ she won’t find me, but I should return.” The woman fumbling with her face cloth didn’t want to leave just as much as the one anxiously tapping her thumb against her obverse wrist, but they needed distance and a reason for it. Besides, the blonde would need more rest to prepare for the morning.

Leksa nodded almost forlornly in agreement. “Ai get in.” Then what could only be described as youthful delight flashed in her eyes.  _ “I am not required here any further tonight; it would not be questioned for me to escort a… live potential traitor, in the case you do indeed plan to inform those who do not support the Coalition in your return.” _

Klark eagerly accepted, doing little to hide a giddy grin, a rare sight that shone like the sun.

Leksa swore she felt her heart melt.

 

With Polis still a way off, Klark talked more then than she had in any given day in the forest, and, according to Reivon, that was considered “insanely chatty”. The passion she exhibited had the brunette unable to entirely suppress her smile, heart pleasantly pounding in her ears. Whenever her hands paused, they automatically went to ruffle the fina’s fur, earning the respondent’s pur. She rode easily and saddleless, most of the horses giving a wide berth. Leksa was immensely proud of Riga, her chaja who marched calmly not three hands from the Reinkru. Gostos had refused to remain in the camp, but his gapa hesitated to walk within a spear of the predator.

Klark started with a concise account of her time in Azgeda that only fueled the Commanders distaste for the Ice Nation, the Azplana in particular.

Talk quickly turned to the Trimani, how it was reintam now, how it had been sweltatam when the Trikru had met them. Leksa allowed herself to simply adore Klark and her animated prattle about her home, her family, and her people, the other Reinkru. She expounded on the use of silk for clothing, how it may have seemed counterproductive to wear something so tightly knit in the humidity, but went on about the loss of moisture through sweating, the absorptive capacity ideal for wicking moisture away from the skin, the breathability keeping them cool. The same features proved useful while in the north, but Klark shivered, recalling the cold like she had never known, not even on the Ark, and how relatively little her silks did. In comparison, clothing reinforced and armored by metal, as the majority of Kongeda wore, would attract and retain both heat and cold while weighing them down. Azkru (and Sangedakru, Leksa silently added) used hardened leather, minimizing the chainmail and sheeted metal in their thick furs as much as possible.

One thing nagged at Leksa until she couldn’t help but ask. “If metal is so seldom used, what of Oktevia’s mask?”

Once the lull lasted much longer than she had anticipated, Leksa sputtered,  _ “I- I apologize for any offense-“ _

“Belomi,” Klark interjected, cutting into the bumbling then pausing to drag a hand over her face. “Belomi, her older brother, if you remember, he made it for her.” Klark drew her eyebrows in, as she was prone to when distressed. Leksa waited patiently, burying her eagerness in tapping a thumb against Riga’s neck. The Deimeka Strat did not often speak directly of those she had lost, and Heda definitely didn’t want to do anything to prod those doors shut. Though she detested seeing the younger so fraught, the brunette could feel her heart swelling at the trusting display of vulnerability.

“On the Ark,” she began again, “there was a holiday - Unity Day. Our last one took place the day before the first four of us - Reivon, Wells, O, and myself - were sent down _. O had never left her family’s dwelling, being a second child, something that is considered illegal on the Ark.” _ Leksa nodded along, having heard of the disgusting law directly from the one in question. “Belomi had this saying- my sister, my responsibility.” Klark huffed another faux laugh. “It’s something we all say now. Ai seingeda, ai job.” Wistful smile tugging at her mouth, she continued almost absentmindedly. “He loved her so much, and  _ all she wanted to do was leave the musty old room. _ Of course,  _ Bel always said no, too concerned for her safety. But one day,” _ her tone turned towards pride, “one day, he said fuck it. Her safety  **and** her happiness were his responsibility. He pulled together enough to  _ get a friend to weld a mask - her mask. When he showed her, she was reasonably confused and unimpressed, but  _ once he explained? That the Unity Day masquerade was happening right then? She’s described it as one of her few truly happy Ark Moments. A mask  _ and the added press of dancing teens _ had them both believing it was a flawless plan.

“But then there was a solar flare, which I think is basically a tiny bit of the sun exploding outward? Whatever it is, for some reason, everyone has to line up and show their ID tags,  _ tags O didn’t have. They arrested her on the spot and locked her up. They didn’t hold her long, doing basically none of the necessary paperwork, and  _ threw her in our little pod before dropping us. Somehow, through the whole mess, she managed to keep hold of that mask.

“Down here, Reivon modified it to sit comfortably and securely without stifling her or hindering her sight. After Bel died,  _ she changed.” _ Klark worked her jaw, hands falling mutely to her lap. _ “We all did. Now she keeps it with her. _ Otaim. Wears it regularly.

“So, no,” Klark adjusted her posture and cleared her throat self-consciously, tone mirroring her increasingly clipped sentences, “we do not entirely exclude metal.”

Leksa could practically feel the other withdrawing, so she blurted, “Mochof!” Her turn to clear her throat, she composed herself and, at a more reasonable volume, “Thank you for sharing with me.” Klark didn’t move.  _ “It truly means a lot, and I am honored by your confidence in me.” _ The blonde relaxed.

They kept talking, but now with the Purely Official facade to their interactions, as it had been in the forest, silently and mutually agreed to return to, the gona accepting it or unaware of the switch in mannerisms.

It was a struggle to reign in her ogling, but somehow Leksa managed, mostly, looking anywhere and everywhere but the silk clan, her bare face and lips in particular. Whenever she did, she lost focus on the rest of the world. She was especially grateful for Riga’s training and intelligence, who never stubbled or misstepped despite her rider’s occasional inattention.

They discussed the gathered clans, which was mostly Heda giving a run down more detailed than the one she had given in the forest, with pointers on how to deal with specific clans and their representatives.

The last two, Sangeda and Floudon, would arrive the next day. A meeting such as the impending one would usually commence immediately following, but the theme was one only three clans knew of, and the other kru were sure to have strong (negative) views on. Leksa was itching to tell Blue Eyes, who would undoubtedly be hurt by withholdment, but she was the only of the Fotamon who had not spoken on the sensitive subject with at least one of the Trikru in their visit, so she was unsure how to broach the topic.

Once they came within archers’ range of the city, Klark came to an abrupt halt, the small procession doing so as Leksa followed suit.

“Something has me concerned,” she started slowly.  _ “ _ Nia pointed out  _ Reinkru are not bound by Kongeda law. It is no secret, but the  _ way she said it...” Even without the right words to finish her thought, Leksa understood.

“I see. _ We will need to take into account she may intend to use this against us.  _ Mochof, Klark.” She nodded her thanks as she spoke it. “ _ It slipped my attention. Though I trust your people, the Azplana has proven time and again to be resourceful and deceitful, apt in twisting people to her will. Your assistance will not be forgotten.” _

The last leg to the Tower was largely undisturbed, most of Polis sound asleep. Stable hands rushed to care for the steeds when they arrived.

_ “Would you care for other accommodations for your friend?” _

Coming from anyone else, the offer would have made Klark bristle, but Leksa only asked because it was expected of her, not because she thought it would be accepted; the blonde appeared to realize this.

“Not tonight, but I would suggest something for the morning. _ I can’t promise to stay silent, and if she hears me in pain, nothing would stop her.  _ Somewhere in the woods, maybe, _ but I would need to help take her there, or she won’t go at all.” _

Heda permitted a small but pained smile before taking hold again and ordering preparations begin. The people of the Coalition may not know of the act of good faith, but Leksa did, and she hoped that would be enough for Klark.

The bell tolled the middle of the night rung out as the lift rattled to a stop on the fourth floor, and it was both Heda and Leksa who clutched Klark’s forearm. “Rid op os,” Heda Leksa bade her as the gate closed and she continued upwards.

She wished she didn’t have to leave the Sun Woman, then or ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trig  
> Chit Hkom Oso Lid In Yu Hir, Klark Kom Reinkru: What Has Brought You Here, Klark Of The Rain People  
> Oso Don Sen In Yu Wor Trap: We Heard Your War Camp  
> Kep Klin Em De Gonen: Save Her The Trouble  
> Bants: Leave  
> Nau: Now  
> Nawe: Never  
> Ai Get In: I Know  
> Please send feedback  
> Riga: Regal (Self-Made)  
> Chaja: War Horse (Self-Made, from the term Charger, a common breed of warhorse)  
> Reintam: Rein/Rain Season  
> Sweltam: Swelta/Hot Season  
> Gapa: Horse  
> Ai Seingeda, Ai Job: My Family, My Responsibility  
> Otaim: Always  
> Rid Op Os: Sleep Well
> 
> Please send feedback


End file.
